In This Life
by quiet-heart
Summary: What if we don't have marriages? What if we have Partnerships? Potentials? Career Options? Trial Period agreements? Gibbs is about to get a new Partner-In-Training (PIT) and he's not happy about it. He's going to be even less happy when he finds out what she's really up to. On hold until further notice.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Senior Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs was getting his regular coffee at his regular coffee shop when someone, a woman surprisingly enough, caught his attention.

"Damnit, they screwed the beans again," she muttered after taking a sip of her coffee, and scowling at it. "This is supposed to be their version of dark?"

"Too dark?" Gibbs asked.

"Nope," the woman replied. Then she made his eyebrows go up. "Not dark enough." Seeing his expression, she continued. "Friend of mine used to say if it don't take the hair off your tongue after the first sip, then it ain't strong enough. He called it coffee; I called it battery acid, but I got used to it."

Gibbs laughed. "Sounds like he was a Marine."

"Funny enough, he was. And a four-star General, to boot," she said, letting him hold the door open for her. "He was the kind of guy who had everyone else scrambling if he suddenly decided to do an inspection, but he could be an absolute darling when he chose to be, which was usually behind closed doors, and on the threat of being shot at dawn if anyone ever said anything."

"Yeah, we don't like to talk about that; ruins our tough guy image," Gibbs said, grinning, taking a closer look at his companion. She was a tall woman, standing somewhere between five-nine and five-ten in her sensible flat shoes. Her fair skin was tanned, and her dark brown hair was in a braid that wrapped around her head. Dressed in a dark blue vest, knee-length skirt, and blazer, with a soft purple blouse, she was easy on the eyes, Gibbs thought.

"I'm guessing by that comment you're either a Marine, or you were one," she said, walking with him, clearly going in the same direction as he was.

"Was," Gibbs admitted. "Years ago."

"And I'm guessing you were, and still are, a holy terror if someone gets between you and your coffee first thing in the morning," she said, flashing him a mischievous grin.

Gibbs laughed. "Yeah, yeah I can be," he admitted. "Doctor once tried to get me to stop drinking coffee for seventy-two hours prior to a check-up. I didn't even make it past thirty-six before I was ready to kill someone."

"Oh, that is bad," the woman said, laughing.

"What made it worse was it was a lawyer and one of my ex-partners, who was a suspect in an ongoing murder investigation," he continued. "To make it even worse, her lawyer was also her Partner-To-Be."

She laughed again. "Screw the coffee; hand me the bourbon and forget the glass!" she chortled.

"That was about it, yeah," Gibbs said, grinning. "You drink?"

"In a social setting, yeah, but in a private or casual setting, I prefer beer," she admitted. "Skip the glass, and make sure it's cold."

"Sounds good to me," he said. They continued bantering (and was he actually flirting with her?) until they arrived at NCIS. "You coming in?" he asked.

"As much as I enjoy your company, I'm afraid not," the woman admitted. "I'm supposed to be meeting someone a little ways from here."

"You don't look too happy about that."

She shrugged. "Business meetings. Love 'em or hate 'em, but they make the world go round."

"True that." He offered her his hand. "It was nice chatting with you."

She accepted his hand, lingering for a moment. "Same here. Maybe we'll run into each other again."

"Well, if you ever need help, come here and ask for Agent Gibbs," he said, giving her his card, which she accepted.

"Thanks. Friends call me Jan."

"Jan. Have fun at the business meeting," he said, forcing himself to start heading inside.

"You too," she said, flashing him a shy smile and heading down the sidewalk. Then she looked back at him, and smiled again. Gibbs nearly walked into the door.

Halfway down the block a nondescript sedan was waiting. Jan got in the back, feeling herself tense up.

"Well?" Senator Michael Cogsworth demanded. He was in the back seat, with his driver and assistant in the front.

"He likes his coffee black and strong, and he's easy on the eyes," Jan said, deliberately omitting the detail that he had been flirting with her, and had nearly walked into the door when she'd looked back at him. "I can do him."

"You get me what I want and you'll get what you want," Cogsworth promised. "Half a mill, plus a Career Option in whatever you want."

"And a no-contested partnership dissolve if it comes to that?" Jan asked.

"Of course," Cogsworth soothed.

"Fine. But if this bites me in the ass, I'm going after yours, dead or alive," Jan threatened. "You're not the only one who knows how to play the game."

"Fair enough," Cogsworth said. He glanced at his pricey watch. "It's time. Let's go."

Ten minutes later they were being escorted into NCIS Director Leon Vance's office.

Cogsworth did the usual glad-handing and introduced Jan to him.

"Nice to meet you," Vance said. "Your file says you're a good person, but I should warn you; Agent Gibbs is going to fight. He's rejected the last four Potentials. Seems his previous Partners put the fear of God in him."

"I understand, Director, and I won't take it personally if he does," Jan said. "But, if at all possible, I would like to speak with him personally. He may not be very happy with the situation, but I may be able to convince him to accept this for now."

Vance nodded and picked up his phone. "Gibbs, my office please." The agent appeared a moment later after a brief knock on the door. He started when he saw Jan, and then his eyes narrowed suspiciously when he saw the group. "Director. What's going on?" he asked, shutting the door behind him.

"Gibbs, this is Senator Cogsworth, with Potential Janice Carnaby. He's her sponsor."

Gibbs glanced at Jan, who levelled her head at him. "Not interested," he said.

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice in the matter, Agent Gibbs," Vance said. "You need a Partner, and Potential Carnaby comes highly recommended."

"So did the last two and look what happened," Gibbs shot back. "Took me a week to clean the mess off the ceiling from the last one!"

"Gibbs," Vance said patiently.

"No," Gibbs said, shaking his finger. "I am not taking another Partner, not even a temporary one!"

"What's the problem, Agent Gibbs? She's easy on the eyes," Cogsworth said, his best campaign smile on his face. He came up to him and grinned, doing his whole Best Buddy routine. Jan cringed mentally, having seen this before. "Besides, according to my personal sources, she does a fabulous blowjob, and I'm sure a man like you can appreciate a woman who can suck the chrome off a trailer hitch," he said in a stage whisper.

Gibbs glared at him. "Are you serious?" he demanded, seeing Vance's eyes go wide with embarrassment. To her credit, Jan didn't even flinch, but a blush did stain her cheeks. "Is that how you sell all of your Potentials, or just the ones you wish you could bed?" he shot back at Cogsworth.

Realizing this was getting out of hand and Gibbs was likely to try and punch the Senator, Jan quickly intervened.

"Director, Senator, may I go for a walk with Agent Gibbs?" she asked, quietly but firmly.

Gibbs glared at her. Vance nodded and gestured towards the door. "Please," he said.

Gibbs stormed out of the office, Jan trailing behind him. The moment he found an empty conference room, he slammed the door shut and rounded on her. "I do not like being blindsided like that," he snarled, his nose inches from hers, her back nearly against the door.

"I don't know of anyone who does," Jan said calmly. "And before you try and reduce my height, I would suggest you shut up and listen to me." Gibbs glared at her, but he shut up. "You need a Partner, even if it's just a Partner-In-Training, to get the Society off your back. We don't have to sleep together, or even share the same bedroom, but you need me. And, stupid as it sounds, I need you. I've had four previous Trial Period agreements, and two Partnership agreements that were terminated. This is my last chance. Guess what's going to happen to my membership if I get dumped again?"

 _Prostitution, or maidship, for the rest of her natural life, if someone doesn't offer her a full Partnership or Career Option_ , Gibbs remembered. _And if she's a Maid or Prostitute, her chances aren't very good._

He sighed heavily. "I'm listening."

"I wasn't lying when I said one of my previous Training Partners was a four-star general," Jan said. "One of my others was a Marine who was killed in the line of duty. What that means is I gotten very good at being a secretary and a companion. Sex wasn't involved, and neither were children."

"Can you handle a gun?"

"Thanks to my Training Partners, yes. I'm a Sharpshooter on target practice, and the Marine was teaching me how to handle a rifle before he was sent away. However, if you're talking a moving target, I'm a Marksman at best," she admitted. "Both the General and the Marine insisted I learn."

He held up a finger. "I expect loyalty, and for you not to question my orders."

"I expect kindness, and for you to let me have a life that doesn't involve me being a damn servant all the time," she shot back. "And if you decide to have me follow you around all the time, I expect the chance for a Career Option. In return, I will keep your home and clothes cleaned, meals cooked, vehicle serviced, and paperwork done. I will give you my loyalty and my support, but if you hit me, or hurt me in any way, I will belt you right back."

Gibbs couldn't help it; he grinned.

"You give me a chance," she continued, "and I will have your back."

He glared at her for a moment, giving her credit when she didn't back down. Trusting his gut, he made a decision. "Put a knife in it, and I will put a bullet in yours," he threatened.

"Fair enough. Trial Period agreement of three months, and go from there?" she asked.

A Trial Period with a Potential was always done in increments of three, be it three, six, nine, or twelve, and be it days, weeks, or months. After a Trial Period of one full year, it was generally expected that a Partnership Deal would be signed. If it wasn't, for whatever reason, then the Society had the right to terminate the Trial Period and remove the Potential. Failure to comply with the terms of the Trial Period agreement was also grounds for termination, and could lead to court action against the Acceptor, the one who accepted the Potential, if it was discovered that the Acceptor had violated the agreement. The same could also be said for the Potential. As it was, a Trail Period agreement was always carefully written out, as so to avoid scandal and public embarrassment for all sides. Both Jan and Gibbs had heard and seen such agreements get really ugly, both in court and in public.

"Fair enough," Gibbs said. "Separate bedrooms, no expectation of sex, and separate vehicles."

Jan's face lit up. "I have a red 1968 Pontiac Firebird Convertible that's in storage at the moment. If I get it insured, may I use that?"

"You have a 1968 Firebird?" he demanded incredulously. "How?"

She shrugged. "I inherited it from the Marine. His family didn't want it, and his brother liked me well enough, so the family gave it to me."

"Fine. Tell me you have your gear already."

"I'm between places at the moment, so yes, I do. One large duffle bag and one rolling footlocker, courtesy of the General." When she saw the incredulous look on his face, she explained. "I traveled with him quite a bit, usually overseas."

Gibbs nodded sharply. "Let's go. I want to see that car."

They headed back to Vance's office, with her walking behind him, as was her custom. Gibbs halted, and she nearly smacked her nose into his back.

"You don't walk behind me," he told her, holding up a finger. "You walk beside me, or you don't walk with me at all."

A small smile graced her face. "I can do that," she said. "Stick that finger in my face again, and I'll bite it."

Gibbs couldn't help it. He grinned, and continued walking, this time with her beside him. "Feisty."

"Survival," she shot back.

Back at Vance's office, everyone was waiting. When Gibbs held the door open for Jan, Vance's eyebrows shot up.

"I'll sign a three month Trial Period agreement," Gibbs said. "The details are between me, Jan, and the legal department. She says she has her gear with her now. I want it brought in."

"I'll have my driver bring it up," Cogsworth said, smiling brightly. "I'm sure you won't have any regrets. I know I wouldn't, especially with her considerable... assets, shall we say?" he said, leering at Jan.

Vance groaned softly. Jan glanced at Gibbs.

"Would I get in to trouble if I demonstrated one of the things I was taught by the General and the Marine?" she asked innocently.

"If it's what I hope it is, no, you won't," Gibbs said, a sneaking suspicion going through his mind.

Jan smiled, and swung. Her punch snapped Cogsworth's head back and bloodied his nose.

Understandably, Cogsworth yelled in pain and doubled over, clutching his face.

Jan shrugged, watching as Cogsworth's assistant, Randal, assisted him. "Guess he doesn't like all of my assets after all."

"I'll get you a desk," Gibbs said, grinning widely.

"And I'll get the paperwork started," Vance said, back sitting down in his chair.

"And I will talk to our driver and have her stuff sent up," Randal said, helping Cogsworth hold a wad of tissues to his face.

"Nice meeting you, Jan," Vance said. "Welcome to NCIS."

"Likewise, Director," Jan said, picking up her plain black purse and following Gibbs out of the office.

As Gibbs headed back to his desk, Jan beside him, he spoke. "Do you have a gun?"

"No, but if you point me in the right direction, I will get one," Jan said. "Clothing and appearance requirements. What do you expect?"

"Whatever you're comfortable in, and can run in if you need to, but presentable in case we're dealing with Senators or military personnel."

"I like cargo pants, straight leg jeans, and button down shirts," Jan said. "I don't like heels, because I'm tall enough as it is, and the jokes can be pretty bad."

"Fair enough. Do you have a cell phone?"

"I do, and I will get the area code changed on it as soon as possible, and get the number to you just as fast."

"Thank you." He gestured at a curious Caucasian man and woman, and a black man, all in office clothes. "Special Agent Tim McGee and Ellie Bishop," he said, identifying the first two. "MI6 Agent Clayton Reeves. We usually have FBI Agent Tess Moore working with us, but she's not here at the moment. This is Partner-In-Training Jan Carnaby."

Tim's eyebrows shot up. "Ah, boss, the last time you had a PIT, she nearly destroyed your house when she tried to see if a can of sweetened condensed milk really would explode."

Jan shrugged. "Should see what a can of beans on a wood stove can do," she said. "Little incident in Israel with a local. Boy, was his wife ever mad. Not quite sure what she was saying because I don't speak Hebrew, but you could hear her yelling up and down the whole street." She glanced at Gibbs, who was smirking. "Mind you, the General's bodyguard, he was just as pissed, because a can of exploding beans sounds like a weapon firing, so he did what he does best. Both the General and I wound up eating dirt over that one. Mind you, that wasn't as bad as the time one of my previous PIT's oldest son buddies got drunk and decided to see what would happen if an extra large lava lamp was put on a stove and heated up. And he decided to do this in the kitchen."

"How bad?" Ellie asked.

"I was still getting glass out of the ceiling two days later," Jan said, watching as everyone cringed. "Fortunately, nobody was hurt because the idiot was passed out in the living room, on the floor, at the time. Unfortunately, the First Wife blamed the whole thing on me, even though I was nowhere near the house when it happened."

"Where were you?" Tim asked.

"In a college dorm across town, trying to convince the daughter that life will go on even though her absolute favourite, can't live without 'em, boy band had split up," Jan said sourly. "That was one of the longest nights of my life."

"Yeah, girls and their boy bands. Can't live with 'em, wish we could live without 'em," Clayton said, grinning.

Jan grinned.

"McGee, find her a desk," Gibbs said, watching as Randal appeared, escorted by an agent, carrying a large green canvas duffle bag and wheeling a green and black footlocker. He gestured at the man, who came over. "How's the Senator?"

"Beautiful black eyes," Randal said, giving Jan her bag. "I'm surprised a woman hasn't hit him sooner." He held up a slim black jewelry case and gave it to Gibbs. "As per the sponsor agreement."

Inside the case were two titanium and gold cuff bracelets, about one inch in width, half the size of a Partnership bracelet, which could be between two to three inches in width. It was tradition for PITs to receive half-bracelets as a symbol of the agreement, then upgrade to a full bracelet when a Partnership was signed. They were identical in design, but women's were usually smaller and more feminine in shape and size.

Gibbs took out the female bracelet and undid the clasp with the special screw driver that was provided. Then he put it on Jan's left wrist and sealed the bracelet. Jan did the same to him, and then they clasped wrists. Randal put his hand over theirs and did the traditional blessing.

"May this Arrangement prove fruitful, content, and honest, and may it lead to a Partnership," he said.

"Hear," both Gibbs and Jan said.

Gibbs couldn't resist letting his fingers linger against the soft skin of Jan's wrist, feeling her pulse speed up. A blush stained her cheeks and her pupils went a little wide. Then his phone rang, breaking the moment.

As he turned away to answer it, Randal whispered in Jan's ear on the pretence of giving her a hug.

"Good luck. The bug is in his. Nice shot with Tick Tock; he deserved that."

Jan nodded. "Watch your back. Wife Two is eying your backside," she said.

"And I'm gay," Randal said.

"Stay safe," Jan said.

"Gear up. Dead sailor at Bethesda," Gibbs said, getting off his phone, as Randal headed for the elevator.

"Why did they call us?" Clayton asked.

"Because this guy walked in with the wrong end of a knife in his stomach," Gibbs said. "You," he said to Jan. "You're with me. You got pants with you?"

"I do. Five minutes, top," Jan said.

"Clock's ticking," Gibbs said, watching Jan dive for her duffle bag and footlocker. "Bishop."

"I'll show her the nearest washroom," Ellie said.

Jan grabbed a pair of dark blue Dickies, socks, and black work runners. Before she followed Ellie, she threw her wallet into a small black backpack she grabbed from her footlocker. Five minutes later, she was back, throwing her skirt and pantyhose into the duffle bag, then chasing after Gibbs as he and Ellie headed for the elevator.

Using the elevator wall, Jan tied up her shoes. Then she took out a pair of sunglasses from her backpack and tucked them in the front of her shirt. A black pocket knife was about to go in the small of her back, but Gibbs stopped her.

"Let me see that," he said. She handed it to him, and he snapped it open. It was a spring-assisted survival knife, complete with seatbelt cutter and glass breaker. The USMC logo was on the handle, and when Gibbs checked the blade, he was pleased to see that it was sharp. "Good," he said, giving Jan her knife back. "Don't go anywhere without it."

"Understood."

"How long are you with us for?" Ellie asked Jan.

"Once the agreement is signed, three months," Jan replied. "After that, I don't know."

"This is going to be fun," Clayton said.

"Yeah, until something explodes in the kitchen again," Tim said.

"Oh, I'm not that bad," Jan said. "But if he sticks a potato in the oven, and it explodes, it's not my freaking fault!"

As they walked into the garage, Ellie asked, "Did that actually happen?"

"That and the exploding egg in the microwave. That'll teach me to turn my back on a twelve year old who hates me," Jan said. "Mind you, the blueberry juice dry ice bomb in the toilet, now that was a good one."

All four agents stared at her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"What's in that bag of yours?" Gibbs asked as they drove through the city. Clayton and McGee were in the MCRT vehicle.

"Wallet, notebook and pen, hair elastics, comb, wind up flashlight, sunglasses, basic first aid kit, folding water bottle, forty in cash in small bills and change, lip balm, and a paracord bracelet with an emergency whistle, fire starter, and compass," Jan said, ticking off her fingers. Gibbs nodded in approval. "Oh, and glucose tablets, an emergency blanket, and a really nice Zippo lighter I keep around just for the halibut."

"Halibut?" Ellie repeated from the back seat.

"One of my PITs mother didn't like anyone using any kind of cuss word, and since she lived with us, I had to watch my mouth all the time," Jan said. "So I got into the habit of saying halibut instead of hell of it. First time the General heard me say it, he nearly choked on his coffee."

"Who was the General?" Gibbs asked.

"General Riley Tyrrell," Jan said. "Biggest pain in my ass for the first month I was with him, until I finally got right royally mad and stood up to him, told him off. He looks at me, and says, 'About damn time you stood up to me, girl! I need a partner, not a doormat!' I shared his life and his room, but never his bed, which was our agreement, for almost nine months."

"What happened to him?" Ellie asked.

"Heart attack about three weeks ago. Caught him in his sleep. And, of course, Wife Two didn't like me, and since I didn't have a full Partnership with him, I got nothing," Jan said.

"What happened to Wife One?" Gibbs asked.

"I don't know. We had an unwritten agreement not to talk about her," Jan said. "He even threatened to cause problems with Wife Two's Partnership if she ever mentioned Wife One in a bad light, or even mentioned her at all."

"Yikes," Ellie said. "Sounds like you had a pretty good agreement."

"Oh, he was a good man, and he treated me good. I learned a lot from him," Jan said. "Anyway, what can I expect when we get to where we're going?"

"Expect to get picked on," Ellie said. "You're the new girl, and if you're working with us, that makes you a Probie."

"And I know exactly what that means," Jan said sourly. Gibbs smirked at that.

Gibbs had a problem; he couldn't seem to shake the nagging feeling that he was being played, that something else was going on. Sure, Jan was pretty in her own way, and maybe she was innocent in all this, but his head (and his heart) demanded that he test her, push her. If his gut was right, and she was involved in something illegal, the heaven help her, but if she wasn't, and he was wrong, then heaven help him.

At the hospital, they were directed to the morgue, where Donald 'Ducky' Mallard, and his assistant, Jimmy Palmer, were waiting for them. Ellie joined Tim and Clayton in the ER to talk to the staff and gather what evidence they could.

As Gibbs and Jan rode the elevator down, Gibbs spoke up.

"You stay with me, or within my line of sight, unless you're with one of the others," he said. "If you notice something, speak up." He handed her a pair of latex gloves. "You're going to need these."

"Are they latex?" she asked.

"Yeah. So?"

"So I'm allergic to latex," Jan replied. "I break out in hives if I wear them for more than five minutes."

"Good to know. Start keeping a pair of disposable rubber gloves with you at all times. Just because it's not a crime scene, doesn't mean you won't need them."

"Understood."

"And dead bodies? Part of the job. Sometimes they stink."

"Can't be any worse than a group of guys who haven't showered in a week."

"Worse."

"Vicks?"

"Vicks."

"I'm going to need a bigger backpack."

Gibbs just smirked.

In the morgue, Ducky and Palmer were loading up the body, a young man with curly black hair cut close, light brown skin, and dressed in street clothes that had been cut open. While they worked, they quietly discussing the fact that Palmer's daughter, Victoria, was trying to follow her mother, Breena, around at the funeral home where Breena worked as an embalmer.

Palmer had a good Partnership with Breena, and they had welcomed their daughter about a year ago. Ducky was alone, having been granted Partnership Omission due to his status as a respected doctor, and his age. The Society granted such Omissions on a case-by-case only, and not every Career was guaranteed an Omission. Even military personnel were not exempt.

Ducky's eyes lit up when he saw Gibbs and Jan.

"Ah! A new one, Jethro?" he asked.

"Yeah. This is Janice Carnaby. Jan, this is Doctor Donald Mallard and Jimmy Palmer," Gibbs said.

"Ducky, my dear. Let's hope you do better than the last one," he said to Jan.

"The exploding evaporated milk on the stove one?" Jan asked. Ducky nodded. "Mmm, I think the worst I ever did was forget to turn off a coffee pot burner, and it was an empty coffee pot. Then I put the coffee pot in the sink and turned cold water on it."

"It shattered," Palmer guessed.

"It shattered," Jan confirmed.

"That's bad," Palmer said, wincing.

"What do we got, Duck?" Gibbs asked.

"Meet Seaman Thomas Hennings," Ducky said. "This poor fellow took a knife to the stomach and bled to death. What concerned the attending doctor, however, was that the bleeding showed no signs of coagulating, but Seaman Hennings has no history of being on anticoagulation medication, nor is he a hemophiliac. Yet something prevented his blood from being able to clot around the wound."

"Would it be possible to coat the weapon with anticoagulant medicine?" Jan asked. "Or even blood thinners? If I remember right, most of them come in pill form. Crush a few up into a powder, make it into a paste, and paint it on the weapon. Kind of like a slow acting poison, except the victim bleeds to death, which can be a form of physiological terror in itself."

"Now that is a frighteningly real possibility," Ducky said. "It would also explain a few things. We'll know more when we get him back, as always."

"Of course," Gibbs said. He picked up the victim's wallet and started going through it. "Not much cash, but cards are still here. Rules out robbery. Got a residence address in Virginia, so what's he doing over here?"

"Could he have been stationed at the Navy Yard?" Jan asked, watching as Gibbs made note of the address in his notebook. "If he's out of uniform, he could have been visiting his daughter." She used the tip of her pen to tap a worn photo of the victim and a giggling little girl with her hair in pigtails. "Since I'm not seeing a third person, I would safely bet single parent, or that he and Momma don't get along for some reason."

"That's a safe bet," Gibbs said. "We'll find in a bit." He bagged and tagged the wallet and sent it with Ducky to be sent to Abby Scuito, their forensic specialist, for further analysis.

Then they headed upstairs to catch up with the rest of the team, only to find chaos. It seemed a local bar fight had gotten out of hand and now the ER was being flooded with drunk and angry patrons. Tim and Clayton were assisting three cops and two security guards in holding down a heavyset man who was yelling his head off about commies and President Obama. Ellie was trying to help a pair of nurses and orderlies bandage a young man who had a nasty gash across his head who kept insisting on taking his shirt off.

Jan dove for Ellie and the nurses and Gibbs jumped into the fray with Tim and Clayton. Then Jan went after another nurse who was struggling with a very angry man. She got the nurse out of the way, only to receive a punch across the face. The punch sent Jan reeling, and she fell back against a table, sending things flying.

"Carnaby!" Gibbs yelled, struggling to get to her, but he was dealing with an overly amorous woman who wouldn't let go of him and was as drunk as they came.

He watched in horror as the man approached Jan, clearly intent on hitting her again, but before he could reach her, Jan grabbed a nearby tray and swung as hard as she could. The man went sideways, stunned, but then tried charging her. Jan responded by ducking and lifting, sending him over her shoulders and on to his back. A vicious slap of the tray, cracking it this time, sent him out. Jan grabbed a nearby restraint cloth, kicked the unconscious man over on his stomach, and tied his hands behind his back with a handcuff knot. Then, after checking on the nurse she had rescued, she came over to Gibbs, who was still struggling with the woman, grabbed her by the shoulder, spun her around, and hit her with a left hook as hard as she could.

The woman went down and both Gibbs and Jan restrained the woman. A haggard-looking orderly took over, joined by a young man in a camouflage utility uniform, the rank on his shirt saying he was just a private.

"You okay?" Gibbs asked Jan, who had a bloody lip.

"Ask me that when this is over," Jan groaned, spotting Ellie and two other orderlies struggling with a patient who was screaming obscenities at them.

In the end, it took nearly two dozen cops, military personnel, hospital staff, and several civilians, in addition to the NCIS team, to bring order back to the ER. Jan's height and handcuff knot trick made her very popular amongst the smaller nurses and some of the cops when they ran out of plastic ties.

As the team sat down in and around the MCRT truck, they were fussed over by nurses and nurse assistants. The team had been joined by FBI Agent Tess Monroe, who had quickly exchanged greetings with Jan before diving into the mess to help a group of cops struggling with a pair of fighting young men intent on beating the hell out of each other. Tess was better off compared to the rest of the team, but her head and back were going to be sore for a while, from when she'd gotten thrown. All of them had been hit, kicked, or clawed at during the melee. Gibbs was sure there would be plenty of charges stemming from this, and a lot of patients with some serious hangovers once they dried out.

"Does this happen often?" Jan asked, a cold bag against her mouth.

"This is my first," Ellie admitted.

"How do we explain this to Vance, boss?" Tim asked, holding a bag against his head.

"We rendered assistance at the hospital while attending a crime scene," Gibbs said. "If he wants the details, he can read the report."

"Speaking of which, the victim's car's been secured and is supposed to be sent to Abby," Clayton said.

"Supposed to be?" Gibbs asked.

"I was talking to Security when all hell broke loose," Tim admitted.

"Check," Gibbs said.

"I'll go find the head chief," Jan said, getting up from her prone position on the truck floor. "I need the experience in dealing with them anyway."

Ellie handed her her NCIS cap. "You're gonna need this," she said.

"And this," Tim said, handing Jan a business card.

"And this," Clayton said, handing her his notebook and pen.

"I'll be back in a sec, but I reserve the right to give someone an enema if they puck around with me again," Jan said, tugging the cap on and heading for the hospital to hunt down the head of security.

"Can we keep her around for a while, Gibbs? She has her uses," Ellie said.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Just because I'm taller than Bishop doesn't mean I'm lighter than her!" Jan snarled, carefully inching her way down a branch that was hanging over a local lake, where a body had been found.

She had been "volunteered" to climb the tree and push a piece of floating evidence towards the rest of the team, with the provided pole.

"Then you'll just have to be extra careful, won't you?" Clayton teased from the shore.

The glare she shot him spoke volumes.

Gibbs was off doing something, somewhere, leaving her at the mercy of Clayton and a woman named Debbie Olsen, who was a new agent working on her Career Option. It was Donna was who had volunteered her, insisting that she do it because she was taller than both Donna and Ellie.

It had been four days since Jan and Gibbs had become PITs, and Jan was tired. Gibbs was an early morning riser and a fast dresser. He was also driving Jan crazy because she didn't know what to expect from him, nor what he expected of her.

Her car had been taken out of storage, cleaned off of the dust, checked over, and gassed up. It was now insured and parked next to Gibbs' truck and yellow and black 1970 Dodge Challenger.

Her bedroom was next to his, with no connecting door, and there was only one bathroom in the house. He liked steak, and could cook it over his open fireplace, but had no real interest in fancy or solid food. He hadn't even told her what he liked, besides a good steak.

Yeah, there were rules, like Rule Eleven (when the job is done, walk away) and Rule Thirty-Nine (there's no such thing as a coincidence), but there weren't any house rules. In fact, Gibbs didn't even seem to care what she did in her room, or how she decorated it.

Based on the way he was keeping her at a distance, Jan was starting to get the distinct feeling that Gibbs really didn't want her there at all and was doing everything he could, short of telling her to get out, to make her break the contract and leave.

Once a Trial Period contract was signed, both parties were bound to it. However, there was a clause built in to the contract that was meant to protect the Potential; if, for any reason, the Potential did not feel safe, secure, or welcome during the Trial Period, then the Potential had the option of breaking the contract without recriminations, or fear of retaliation by the Acceptor, if the contract was broken during the first three months. Also, the Acceptor could not, for any reason at all, detain or force the Potential to remain with him or her once the contract was broken or the Trial Period was up, and the Potential had elected not to renew or extend the contract. Any attempt to do so could result in either jail time, on charges of unlawful confinement, or a very stiff fine, and a lifelong banishment from any future Potentials.

That did not mean that he or she would be without a Partner for the rest of their life; rather, it would be harder for them to find a Partner through Courtship, because their potential girlfriend or boyfriend could look up their file and see their past history. This was often the case for prior drug and alcohol abusers, domestic abusers, and sexual assaulters. In fact, pretty much anyone with a history of violence, or abuse, could find themselves being banned by the Society, and it was not a pleasant stigma to be had.

Unfortunately for Jan, and what Gibbs didn't know, was that Jan had a lot of money riding on this particular Trial Period. So she gritted her teeth and knuckled down, curbing the desire to take a swing at someone.

Donna had shown up three days ago, and while she claimed Career Option, everyone but Gibbs seemed to know what she was really up to.

Courting someone, or chasing an Acceptor, who was clearly in a Trial Period contract, was firmly and publicly discouraged by the Society, but most Sponsors and Senior Officials privately left it up to the discretion of the Acceptor and the Potential.

Donna was chasing after Gibbs, and doing everything she possibly could to make Jan's life a living hell, her excuse being that she was a real agent and Jan was just a hanger-on, not a real agent.

Right now, Jan was in the tree, with Donna and Clayton watching. Ellie and Tess were processing a motorcycle that had been found nearby, Tim was working with Ducky and Palmer, and Gibbs was around somewhere.

There was a cracking noise.

Jan swore.

Donna laughed (Jan really hated that tittering laugh), and Clayton's eyes went wide.

Then the branch snapped and Jan screamed as she fell.

Donna laughed harder, and Clayton swore, even as Tim, Ducky, Palmer, Tess, and Ellie came running.

"What the hell just happened?" Tim demanded.

"Evidence was in the water, and Janny volunteered to go get it," Donna smirked. "Branch broke."

Ellie glared at the younger woman. "You mean you made her go and get it, knowing full well she could fall in the water, instead of doing it yourself," she shot back.

"Hey! Unlike her, I'm a _real_ agent," Donna snapped. "And I'm not about to get my brand new suit dirty!"

"Jan!" Tess yelled, scanning the rippling water.

"Where is the poor dear?" Ducky wondered, scanning the water, seeing no sign of the younger woman.

Gibbs joined them a second later. "What the hell is going on, and where the hell is Carnaby?" he demanded.

Before anyone could answer, Jan answered for them, sloshing out of the water around the corner from where they were.

"Hey McGee!" she yelled.

"That's my name!" he called back. "You okay?"

"I'll live. Is there a waterproof flashlight and swim mask in that gear truck?" Jan called, wiping her face, coming out of the lake.

"I think so. Why? You find something?" Tim asked, heading for the truck.

"A car that might have something to do with our victim, I think," Jan called, putting her hands on her hips and trying not to shiver.

"You think?" Gibbs asked, joining her, trying to ignore the way her wet clothes hugged her curves, and the way her breasts were starting to peak from the cold of the water.

"Considering where it is, I'm pretty damn sure," Jan said, planting her hands on her hips. "It's empty, it's fairly clear of lake ick, which means it hasn't been there long, and it's nearby. Thanks," she said, accepting the swim goggles Tim handed her. He also handed her a waterproof digital camera and a waterproof spotlight after she put the goggles on. "Back in a sec."

"We'll have towels waiting for you," Tess promised.

"If someone buys me a cuppa hot chocolate, I'll be really happy!" Jan called.

"Deal!" Tim called back, just before she dove beneath the lake surface.

Gibbs rounded on his team. "How the hell did she wind up in the water in the first place?" he snarled.

"Hey, she volunteered to go out on to that branch and retrieve the evidence!" Donna said. "It's not our fault the branch broke!"

"She volunteered? Or you volunteered her?" Gibbs demanded, getting in Donna's face. Donna's flushing face gave him his answer. "If she gets hurt, or sick, because of you, I will take it out of your hide," he snarled, jabbing a finger at her. "As it is, you get to wait for the tow guy to come and get the car."

Donna flushed with embarrassment and anger as Gibbs stormed away to watch for Jan, who had emerged from the water, only to dive back under after taking a gulp of air.

Clayton grinned at Donna. "I still like you, but you're really going to have to stop picking on Jan if you want to keep hanging around Gibbs."

"Seriously," Ellie said, glaring at Donna. "Or I'm going to start picking on you, and you won't like it."

"She's not a real agent, so what do you care, Blondie?" Donna shot back.

"She's Gibbs' PIT, which makes him spoken for, and since I happen to like Jan, and want Gibbs to be happy, you leave them alone," Ellie said. "I've got three brothers. I may be small, but how much do you want to bet I can take you down? Also, compared to you, I'm a real _senior_ agent."

After a few minutes, and two more dives, Jan emerged from the water, holding up the camera. "Got a license plate. Also noticed the driver's side door was open and the car was set in Neutral." She tossed Tim the camera as soon as she was within reach, along with the spotlight, and was about to accept Gibbs' hands when her foot slipped and she went down with a shriek, followed by a yell of pain as her knee hit something solid. "Son of a bitch!" she snarled, rolling over to sit on a rock hidden in the water. "Slippery bastard," she groaned, holding her throbbing knee. Then a thought occurred to her. "Hey Ducky?" she called.

"Yes, Jan?" Ducky asked, coming near the shoreline.

"Didn't you say the victim had blunt force trauma to the back of the head?" Jan asked.

"He did, yes," Ducky said.

"Could slipping on a rock do that?" Jan asked. "Like the way I just slipped?"

"It's quite possible, yes, and if he slipped right about where you are, then the fall could have knocked him unconscious, and thus he could have drowned," Ducky said, noticing that Jan was sitting in water up to her breasts.

Jan rolled over on to her hands and knees and carefully crawled up the rock, wanting to avoid a repeat incident of the fall. This time Gibbs was able to grab her and pull her out of the water.

"You have a theory?" he asked.

"Like I said, the car was in Neutral," Jan said, accepting the towel Ellie handed her. "For some reason, the vic was trying to push the car into the lake. He slips, knocks himself out, drowns, water currents drag him thataway, and the car keeps on rolling until it gets stuck in the mud. There's a good forty-five degree angle down there."

"Which begs the question of why?" Tess said. "And did he own the car?"

"He didn't," Tim said, rejoining them from the sedan, having been running plate numbers and downloading photos. "The car belongs to Petty Officer Monica Gratton, who is declared AWOL by the Navy, and missing by her roommate." He glanced at Jan, who had undone her bun and was now wringing out her bra-band length hair, starting to shiver. "Nice photos, by the way."

"Thanks. One of my previous' was a diver who liked to take underwater pictures," Jan said. "I picked up a few things."

"Nice. Good work," Gibbs said, gently leading Jan towards the truck. "There's a blanket, a pair of coveralls, and boots in the back. Get changed, get dry, get in the car, and warm up."

"Yes boss," Jan said, her teeth starting to chatter. "By the way, Donna?"

"What?" Donna snarled.

"Thanks for volunteering me to get that piece of evidence. If you hadn't done that, I wouldn't have fallen in the water, and found that car," Jan said sweetly, limping for the truck.

Gibbs grinned, following Jan. "She does have a point there," he said. "You're actually good for something."

"Ouch!" Tess mouthed at Ellie, who grinned.

By the time the team, with the exception of Donna, who had been left behind to wait for the tow truck, got back to NCIS, Jan was asleep in the sedan, the cold from the lake and the constant shivering having sapped her energy, even with the blanket wrapped around her. She had stirred long enough to drink the hot chocolate Gibbs had gotten her from a drive-thru on the way back, but had dozed off again.

"Start digging with what we have. I'm going to take Carnaby home, put her in the tub," Gibbs said, coming to a decision.

"Gotcha, Boss. We got this," Tim said from the driver side window, where Gibbs had called him over in the parking lot.

At home, Gibbs managed to convince a sleepy Jan to have a bath, even going as far as running one for her.

"You did good out there," he said, helping her out of the coveralls.

"Thank you. Maybe I'm finally good enough for someone," she said sleepily.

"What do you mean?" he asked, trying to ignore the fact that she had really nice curves under the coveralls. Her plain bra and panties weren't exactly sexy, but they were serviceable, and right now they were still damp, which made them very revealing. He spotted something; a feather tattooed on her left breast, just above the bra cup, looking as if it had fallen and landed on the ground. It was a nice tattoo, if a bit odd.

And she had a very nice breast.

He swallowed hard and covered her with a towel.

"I've never been good enough for someone, anyone. I was always told to leave, to get out, even though I tried to be what they wanted me to be," she mumbled. "Why can't I just be me?"

"Why can't you?"

"Because who I am isn't good enough. I've spent so much time trying to what others want me to be that I don't know who I am. When I lost my son, I wasn't allowed to grieve. It wasn't until I tried to kill myself that I was allowed to grieve for him. But other Acceptors, they didn't want to know about him, didn't want to know I'd had a son by another man. They didn't want to hear it. They just wanted me to be who they wanted me to be," she rambled, tears rolling down her face.

"Jan, I don't want you to be anyone but yourself," he said, cradling her face.

"But if I do that, you won't want me around."

"How do you know?" She just stared at him, clutching the towel under her chin. An idea came to him. "I'll make you a deal, an Unwritten. Okay?" She nodded. "I can't learn to live with you if you aren't yourself, so I want you to be yourself, and I will be myself, and if one of us has a problem, we'll work together to work it out, and maybe we'll learn to live with each other. How does that sound?" To his delight, she smiled. It was a sleepy smile, but it was a smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He offered her his left hand, fingers up, and she clasped it with her left hand, sealing the Unwritten deal.

"Now, you need to get in the tub and warm up," he said, fighting the sudden urge to get closer and kiss her, which would break the Trial Period contract; no kissing and no sex, unless both parties mutually agree. Instead, he kissed her forehead and left the bathroom.

She came downstairs about fifteen minutes later, wearing black sweats with _Hogwarts_ in white down one leg, and thick socks, her hair looking washed, combed, and hanging down her back. He caught the smell of strawberries and flowers, and he smiled.

"Feel better?" he asked, offering her a cup of coffee, which she accepted.

She nodded. "I found a bunch of Suave stuff under the cabinet. Hope you don't mind," she said, following him into the living room.

"Forgot that stuff was there," he admitted, sitting on the couch and watching as she tucked her feet under her in the chair next to the couch. "Help yourself or get rid of it."

"Thanks. I'm more of a coconut or aloe girl," she admitted.

"Bar or body wash?"

"Bar. Easier to travel with, and store. You?"

"Same. Shower and shave. Easier and faster, especially when I'm in a hurry."

"I hear ya. Thanks to the General, I got real good at doing a pit shave with a bar of soap and a handful of water. And I can do a shower in five minutes flat."

"Overseas much?"

"Two-thirds of my time with him. Thanks to him, I discovered I'm actually a pretty good personal assistant and secretary."

"That's good to know. Any hobbies?"

"I like working with clay, and I've got my own set of tools. You?"

"Wood working. Same." An idea came to him. "You hungry?"

"A bit, yeah. You got something in mind?"

"Yeah. Burgers and fries. If we're going to be getting to know each other, maybe we should try an actual date."

Jan's eyes lit up. "Dairy Queen? I love their Dilly Bars and chocolate-dipped ice cream cones. Haven't had one since I got back from England."

"Sounds good to me. Ready when you are."

Jan bounced out of her chair and ran upstairs. She was back a few minutes later, dressed in jeans and carrying a pair of colourful Sketchers runners. Her hair was still down but it was now held back by a yellow and black headband.

He smiled. "Nice."

An hour later, Jan was sure all the previous women were idiots. Even though it was a date at Dairy Queen, Gibbs had been charming, funny, and even flirting with her. If there weren't so much money on the line, it would be so easy to fall in love with him.

 _What was she getting herself into?_

After checking in with the rest of the team (and learning of the discovery of Monica Gratton in the trunk of the car) Jan and Gibbs headed back home, having been shooed away by Tim and Ellie.

Dinner was, in Gibbs opinion, a very good meatloaf and potatoes. It also turned out Jan loved Garfield (the orange fat cat comic) and had a sense of sarcasm to match, such as her comment about the two young men who had been showing off to a group of giggling teenage girls while they had been outside on the Dairy Queen patio, enjoying the evening air.

 _"Those two are so full of shit, the toilets are jealous," she said, taking a lick of her chocolate-dipped ice cream cone_.

Gibbs had nearly choked on his strawberry sundae.

The next morning, as per their Unwritten, Jan wore what she wanted to, which happened to be a soft pink cotton snap blouse under a dark grey pinstripe vest, dark blue boot-cut jeans, and black booties with a stacked three inch heel. As for her hair, she had pulled back the sides into some kind of bun at the back of her head.

"Much better," he said, grinning, causing her to blush.

During the night, when she was supposed to be sleeping, Jan had come to a decision.

Gibbs was clearly a good man, but Senator Cogsworth wanted him brought down because of the case involving his nephew, Lieutenant Junior Grade Ralph Hines.

According to what she had been told, Gibbs and his team had been investigating drug dealers at a Navy distribution warehouse, where Ralph had been stationed. During the course of their investigation, they had zeroed in on Ralph as a distributor, and once they had him in their sights, they hadn't let go. In the end, Ralph was charged with a number of drug-related crimes, all of which were career killers, even if the allegations were proven false. While awaiting trial, Ralph hung himself. There had been no note and no warning.

Senator Cogsworth was Ralph's only family member who had actually cared about him, and thus blamed Gibbs for his death. Jan's job was to find enough evidence to destroy the case or, failing that, Gibbs' credibility as an NCIS MCRT investigator. If she did that, she would be paid enough money for her to live quite comfortably, and be given a Career Option in a job of her choice.

The trick was making sure she didn't get caught, and her heart didn't get in the way.

While talking with Gibbs during the night, they had come to an agreement-slash-arrangement. Because Jan wasn't a real agent, with little experience in handling a gun outside of the firing range, and because she was better suited in an office setting, she would be trying out for their secretary or office assistant. What Gibbs didn't know was that would allow her to go through various files without too much suspicion. It would also allow her to make her own decision regarding Gibbs and his team. That was something Cop, another one of her priors, had taught her; when making a critical decision about something or someone, do your research. Dig, and keep digging, even if the evidence goes one way or the other. Then make your decision.

"Morning Jan," Tim said, smiling back at Jan when she smiled at him. In addition to the jeans and vest, she was wearing a long black jacquard gothic coat that Abby would have loved, with a yellow and black striped scarf under the collar.

"Morning Tim," she said, putting her box down on her desk.

"You get what you needed?" Gibbs asked. They had driven separately so Jan could go to an office supply store and pick up a few things.

"Yes, I did, and I had fun doing it," Jan said, taking off her coat and putting it on the back of her chair.

"Doing what?" Ellie asked, watching curiously as Jan pulled out some office supplies that were not the typical office supplies, like the _Harry_ _Potter_ coffee mug that got put on one side and filled with colourful pens and pencils. The phrase _I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up To No Good_ was done across the mug.

"Picking up some supplies for my desk," Jan said. "Since I'm going to be spending more time there, I figured I'd make it a bit more comfortable."

"Why? You're not going to be there very long," Donna snarked, still smarting over yesterday.

"That may or may not be the case, sister, but I'm still going to enjoy it while I can," Jan replied, taking out a beaker coffee mug. "Besides, you really don't want to piss me off."

"Why's that? You'll go all Hulk on us?" Donna asked.

"Because it's the difference between whether or not she helps you with your paperwork, or puts your paperwork in the recycle bin," Gibbs said, going through his email.

"Nah, I wouldn't put it in the recycle bin," Jan said. "That's too merciful." She smiled at Donna, but it was a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I'd put it through the shredder."

"That's one way to shred someone ," Tim quipped, grinning. "Ouch!"

Jan had just thrown a yellow tennis ball stress ball at him, smacking him hard in the chest.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

" _There's an Elvis movie on the marquee sign_

 _We've all seen at least three times_

 _Everybody's broke, Bobby's got a buck_

 _Put a dollars worth of gas in his pickup truck_

 _We're going' ninety miles an hour, down a dead end road_

 _What's the hurry, son, where you gonna go?_

 _We're gonna howl at the moon, shoot out the light_

 _It's a small town Saturday night_

 _It's a small town Saturday night."_

"Got him," Gibbs said, moving across the dance floor with Jan. They were at a country-themed bar, where one of their suspects was known to hang out; a regular who had last been seen arguing with a Navy sailor. That sailor was now dead, his head bashed in by what Abby was saying was metal and round, like a rusty pipe, tire iron, or crowbar.

" _We see him, Boss,_ " Tim said, moving through the crowd of customers, on the pretence of getting another beer.

"What's our next move?" Jan asked.

"We keep dancing. Reeves, move in," Gibbs said, spinning Jan in time to the bouncy song.

" _Moving in_ ," Clayton said, heading for the suspect.

They had been staking out the bar for the last few days, waiting for Aaron Brinker to show up, because his last known address was a post office box, and they couldn't locate a cell phone belonging to him.

The plan was to strike up a conversation with Brinker, and get him out of the bar so they could bring him in without incident.

The reason Jan was there instead of Donna was because, two days ago, Donna had made the bad mistake of trying to "accidentally" break a clear globe that had been on Jan's desk, by making it roll off the desk. Except the globe had landed on Donna's foot, breaking two of her toes.

" _Never knew glass could do that much damage_ ," _Ellie said, watching as a moaning Donna was helped into the elevator by Tim and Clayton._

 _"It's not glass," Jan said, picking up the globe and putting it back in its wooden elephant stand, a replica of the one used in Harry Potter. "It's solid quartz crystal. The original ball was glass, but I replaced it with this fine fellow during a trip to Japan. Much nicer, don't you think?"_

 _"Much," Ellie agreed, grinning._

 _"So Donna Dearest basically dropped a solid rock on her foot?" Tess asked._

 _"Yup," Jan said._

 _"And she's out of commission. Whoot!" Tess yelped happily._

Right now, Gibbs wasn't complaining. For one thing, Jan wasn't constantly trying to put her hands where they didn't belong, she was focused on the job at hand, and her height made her a very nice dance partner.

Right now she was wearing a denim swing skirt, a purple plaid shirt over a purple tank that hid her gun, white Sketcher dress shoes, and her hair in two braids. Gibbs was in jeans, a white dress shirt, and a black western blazer, blending the two of them into the crowd.

As far as Gibbs was concerned, Jan had very nice legs.

They continued to watching Brinker and Clayton.

"Anything you want, man, I got it. Women, drugs, weapons, if I don't have it, I can get it," Clayton said.

Brinker stared at him, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What about new identification?"

Clayton grinned at him. "You got the cash, I got the flash," he said. He named a price and continued. "For that, I can get you a spankin' new drivers license and birth certificate, enough to get you a very legal passport."

Brinker sighed heavily, weighing his options. "I would need a few days to get the cash together, but yeah, I'm interested."

"In that case, my friend, this way. All I need is your picture and a name of your choice," Clayton said, putting his arm around the man's shoulder and leading him out the door.

"Hook, line, sucka," Jan said.

"Move in," Gibbs said.

" _Moving in_ ," Tim said, following Clayton.

Gibbs and Jan followed behind, hands on their weapons just in case, as Clayton led Brinker to the car.

Brinker froze when he saw Tim, who casually walked by. He glanced at Gibbs and Jan, who giggled when Gibbs put his arm around her shoulders and nuzzled her neck as they walked by, acting like a Courtship couple (they had removed their bracelets for that reason).

"Problem, man?" Clayton asked.

"Just paranoid," Brinker said, turning back to Clayton, who had his gun out and aimed at his face.

"Yeah, I'd say you got reason to be," Clayton said, seeing his team moving to join them, weapons out.

"NCIS, Brinker. We need to have a little chat," Tim said.

Desperate, Brinker grabbed Clayton's arm and swung, catching Clayton with a sucker punch and shoving him into Tim, before taking off across a nearby park. The team gave chase, with Jan and Gibbs hot on Brinker's heels.

Then bad luck struck.

Just as they were about to reach Brinker, a group of college students appeared, football in hand.

"Go long!" someone yelled.

And Jan was being slammed into by a young man, which caused her to fall into a nearby pond. Gibbs, who had been several feet ahead, narrowly avoided being hit.

She screamed as she fell.

"We got her, son!" an elderly man yelled, seeing Gibbs look up from struggling with Brinker, whom had just been tackled by Clayton. "Deal with your boy!"

Gibbs, Clayton, and Tim took care Brinker, who was forced to the ground and cuffed, and a kindly old couple went for Jan, who had surfaced.

"Buck-headed, miserable, low-life, bird-brained _jackass!_ " she yelled, spluttering. Somehow she'd managed to hold on to her gun. "First chance I get, I'm going to castrate the son of a bitch!" she snarled as she was helped out of the pond.

"Jeeze lady, you got a mouth on you," one of the college boys said, laughing at her.

Jan saw red. She went for him, grabbing him by his shirt front, shoving her gun back in its holster behind her back, and shoving her badge in his face, letting him see the gold shield up close and personal.

"I'm a federal agent, bonehead, and you just interfered with a federal investigation," she growled. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't have you charged with obstruction of justice!"

"Because it was an accident?" the young man asked hopefully, eyes wide. "And if I say I'm sorry, will that help?"

"That's up to my supervisor," Jan said, jerking her head at Gibbs, who was grinning.

"Ah, let him go. He's not worth the paperwork," Gibbs said.

"But if you want, I can give you my sweatshirt," one of the students offered, watching as Jan took off her plaid shirt and began to wring it out.

Jan glanced at him, and her eyes went a bit wide. "Damn boy! Your momma must've screamed the place down when she gave birth to you!" she yelped.

The young man, who stood just under six-eight, blushed as his buddies roared with laughter. "I don't know about that, but she's gonna be screaming if she finds out about this. She's a homicide cop, and Dad's a drill instructor with the Marines. I'm the first boy in a long line of girls from her side of the family," he admitted, taking off his red sweatshirt, which had the logo of a local college on it, and handing it to Jan. "And if Ma finds out I accidentally hit a fed, she's going to be investigating a new murder; mine, at her hands."

The sweatshirt nearly came to Jan's knees and made her feel like a little girl trying to wear one of her father's shirts.

"We didn't get names," Gibbs said, watching as Tim and Clayton escorted Brinker back to the car. "You're just a bunch of college kids and it was an accident. Nothing to write up."

"And your kind donation ensures I forget your face," Jan said.

"Deal!" the young man said happily.

Back at the car, the team adjusted their plans. They would drop Jan off at home so she could dry off and get changed, and they would continue on to NCIS to deal with Brinker. Jan would take her car back to NCIS, but she wouldn't have her phone with her; Gibbs was going to give it to Abby in the hopes that it could be dried out. He was also going to get her a waterproof phone case; two dunks in two weeks? He wasn't taking his chances that she would wind up in the water again, next week, not with the way her luck was running.

Once inside the house, Jan threw the sweatshirt in the dryer so she could wear it again, and took off her wet clothes, dried off, and changed into black leggings and a black tank shirt. She gave her hair a quick wash over the tub and left it down so it could dry faster, which Gibbs didn't seem to mind, given the number of times he seemed unable to take his eyes off her when she did.

She was about to head downstairs to grab a quick cup of coffee and throw her wet clothes in the wash, when a noise caught her attention. Leaving her wet clothes where they were, she grabbed her gun instead, and went hunting.

There was someone in the kitchen, she realized, someone in a tan wool trench coat who was poking around in their refrigerator.

"If you want a beer, there's a bar a few blocks over," she said, pulling back the safety and bracing herself the way Gibbs had taught her. The stranger slowly straightened up. "Hands. Let's see 'em, now."

He raised his hands and turned around.

"I hope you're not planning on shooting me with that thing; that would mean having to do a lot of explaining," said none other than Senator Cogsworth, an unopened bottle of beer in one hand.

Jan swore mentally and put the safety back on the gun.

"I could always claim you were an intruder, and I shot you in self-defence," she replied, grabbing the beer before he could pop the tab. She put the beer back in the fridge and tucked the gun behind her back. "I don't feel like trying to explain to Gibbs why I had a beer when I'm supposed to be going back to work and dealing with a suspect in an NOYB case. Now, pleasantries aside, what do you want?"

"You really shouldn't have hit me," he groused. "I could have retaliated."

Jan laughed. "Yeah, about that? You shouldn't have been making sexist remarks in front of Gibbs and Director Vance. Besides, Gibbs likes women who can stand up for themselves. Now, why are you here?"

"Where are you with getting dirt on that bastard?" Senator Cogsworth asked, starting to pace. "Ever since you destroyed the signal in Gibbs' bracelet, I haven't been able to get any real dirt on him."

"I'm still digging," Jan said. "And you know why I did that! MTAC's systems are bug-proof and if that had been discovered, everything would have been shot out the damn door! These things take time; you know that. It's not like I can just tap a key and have instant access to the whole case file. I don't exactly have the kind of clearance!"

"You could always pillow-talk Gibbs. Use your charms, get him to say something about the case," he shot back.

"Oh sure, I'll just use my charms and screw his ass into the damn bed," she said sarcastically, glaring at him. "Except for one itsy, bitsy, teensey, weensey little problem, Senator. There's a no-kiss, no-sex clause in the Agreement, and if I break that, it's grounds for termination of the Agreement, and you know it." He glared at her, but she didn't back down. "This is the way it's playing, Senator; I'm investigating Gibbs with the resources and the time that I have. I will continue to investigate him, and if, and when, I find anything incriminating, I will tell you. Unfortunately, because of said resources and available time, it's going to take time!"

"How can I trust that you'll do as you say?" he snapped. "I've got a lot of money riding on this!"

"Sure as hell not by showing up like this!" she retorted. "I know how you like your women, and I know your general opinion of them, but I'm a woman of my word, Senator, and when I say I'll do something, I keep my word. I will continue to investigate Gibbs and his team, and I will follow the evidence wherever it leads me! And right now, if you don't want Gibbs getting suspicious, I need to get back to work, which means out! Out! Out!" she said, shoving him towards the door. Before he could turn around, she had her gun back out and aimed at his head. "This place is off-limits. Don't come back here again, Senator, or I will find a reason to put a bullet in your ass," she said.

He glared at her. "If I didn't need you, I'd find a way to get you into my bed and show you what I think of you."

She smiled. "Senator, for both our sakes, get going."

He left, and Jan sighed heavily, trying to calm her shaking hands and racing heart.

This was getting dangerous, way too dangerous for her liking. And the worst part was, she wasn't so sure Gibbs was the bad guy in the picture anymore.

Back at NCIS, Tim and Clayton were interrogating Brinker. Ellie was at her desk, going through Brinker's cell phone, and Donna was at her desk, her foot propped up on a cushioned stool. When Jan came in with her usual cup of coffee, she laughed.

"You look like a high school student," she said.

"Sweetheart, with the curves I have under this, nobody could mistaken me for a teenager," Jan shot back, quickly checking her email.

"Yeah, more curves than a road map," Donna snarked.

"Hey, at least I know how to read one," Jan said. "Tell me again just how you wound up in Charlottesville, was it? Did you actually bother turning on the GPS that I'm pretty sure was in the car?"

"She had a mind of her own," Ellie offered up.

"Great!" Jan said. "Nobody wants it anyway. Where's Boss Man?"

"Interrogation," Ellie said. She accepted the high-five Jan gave her as she walked past her desk.

"Bitch," Donna said.

"Bite my ass," Jan shot back. "Oh wait; not a good idea. Tummy trouble. With my luck, I just might cut one at the wrong moment, but then again, you're so full of shit, I don't think anyone will notice."

And with that, she headed for the interrogation room.

In the viewing room, Gibbs was watching Tim and Clayton play cat and mouse with Brinker.

"Hey," he said when she came in and joined him.

"Hey yourself. Brinker talking?"

"Not about the murder, no. He admitted to arguing with our sailor, but said it was because Petty Officer Armah accused him of harassing his girlfriend," Gibbs said.

"Was he?"

"He says no."

"And the whole identification thing?"

"He's got the law nipping at his heels and wanted to get out of town and start over fresh. You feel better?"

"I'm clean and dry; that's what counts. But we may have a problem. Senator Cogsworth showed up at the house."

"What did he want?"

"He was checking up on me, but I don't trust him. Told him not to come back to the house or I would put a bullet in his ass."

"He's your sponsor. Why wouldn't he check up on you?"

"Because he's a sexist pig? I didn't agree to the Sponsorship; the Board did. The only reason I didn't tell him to take a leap out a plane without a parachute is because he's giving me a Living Allowance of three grand a month. And if I get formally hired by NCIS, or anyone else, I get fifteen hundred for three months, or until my trial period with said company is over."

"Nice. What's the catch?"

"That's what I'm waiting for." She turned to face him. "I want to trust you, which is why I'm telling you this, but I have to warn you; I don't trust easily. I've been a Potential since I was eighteen, and I'm almost thirty. I've been burnt, used, and tossed aside like garbage more times than I care to count, and I desperately want to believe that you won't do that to me again." Her face was earnest, leaving Gibbs to wonder just what had happened to her over the last few years. "Even if we never become lovers, even if we're just very good roommates, at least we could keep each other company."

He studied her, trying to read her. Finally, he said, "If Cogsworth shows up again, shoot him in the knee. I'll figure out how to explain it to Vance."

"Thank you." She was about to leave when he stopped her.

"Your phone is with Abby... Roomie. Good work on the stakeout." And he kissed her temple, leaving her blushing and her mind in conflict.

Again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"I've tagged the sections that are the most important or relevant," Jan said. "If there's anything of particular interest, it's been noted."

"Good," Gibbs said, glancing through the mentioned sections.

They were at his desk, going over files and paperwork. It had been over two weeks since Jan had fallen in the pond, and she and Gibbs had talked. Since then, Jan had become more relaxed around him, and even started coming into her own.

Just like Gibbs had a preferred style of dressing (suit and dress shirt), so did she, but hers was slacks (usually twill), dress shirt, and vest. Once in a while she wore a knee-length skirt that matched her vest, or leggings. Thanks to her fast-developing friendship with Abby, who was encouraging her to get in touch with her romantic Victorian gothic side, she was learning to express herself creatively, like the white 1900's Gibson blouse she was wearing today, with her black sweater leggings, wine red vest, and black leather and lace booties.

In terms of their relationship, Jan was proving to be a very good roommate. She was tidy, tidied up after herself, was a good cook, and could play a good game of chess. If she listened to music, or anything on her iPad, she did so with headphones. Upon learning she worked with clay the way he worked with wood, Gibbs had set up a corner of the basement as a work station for her and her portable pottery wheel. It was becoming a regular routine for them to work quietly in the basement together, with him on his wood and her on her clay. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they didn't.

At work, her handwriting was readable, her typing was fast, and she was willing to put in the same kind of long hours as he did. She was also quick with the coffee and late-night case dinner requests, more so if the team asked nicely.

"Thanks," Gibbs continued. "I appreciate this. Anything else?"

Jan handed him another file. "These need your chicken scratch. They're my final psychological and fitness exams, as per standard NCIS policy, and since I'm reporting to you, guess what?"

"I get stuck with the reports," Gibbs said.

"Yup. Once you sign 'em, I'll turn 'em over to HR and Vance."

"Good. Did you fill out that hiring form?"

"The one that officially makes me an NCIS agent?" Gibbs nodded. "Are you sure that's a good idea? We don't know what's going to happen over the remainder of the Trial Period, and I don't want you to be stuck with a mess because of me."

"Vance already approved it," he said. "So yeah, it's a good idea. Sign it, turn it over to HR, and it's done."

"Put it this way, Jan; if you sign that paper, you get legal permission to punch Senator Cogsworth, or anyone else for that matter," Tim piped up.

Jan's eyebrows shot up.

"I wouldn't recommend doing it too often though," Clayton said. "Paperwork's a nightmare, and the bosses really don't like it, unless, of course, it's justified."

"And if it is?" Jan asked.

"Be careful about how you hit their nose, but otherwise, swing away," Ellie said. "Besides, it'll be fun to have a girl on the team that can actually look some of our suspects in the eye."

"What about Olsen?" Jan asked. Said agent was currently out at the doctor's office, having her broken toes examined. "She's not going to be too happy about this, and I get enough grief from her as it is." Donna had tried to get Jan to do the majority of her paperwork, claiming her broken toes were Jan's fault. Gibbs had quickly put a stop to that by telling Donna that it was her toes that were broken, not her hands, that her broken toes were her own damn fault, and since she was pretty much confined to her desk, she was quite welcome to do everyone's paperwork, to which Tim, Ellie, and Clayton gleefully stuck her with. She was also warned that if she deliberately screwed up the paperwork, she would be doing all of it over again, and he would be adding two more agents' paperwork to the pile.

"She'll be a good agent, once she gets her attitude straightened out," Gibbs said. "If she has a problem with you, she can take it up with Vance. As far as I'm concerned, you're mine."

"Yes! I'm not the Probie anymore!" Ellie yelped from her desk, punching the air with her fists, causing Clayton and Tim to laugh.

"You don't know how many ways that could be taken," Jan said to Gibbs in a low voice, grinning.

He grinned back at her. "Get the papers signed, Probie, and see about getting a proper hat and jacket."

"Understood," Jan said.

"By the way, what is that mug of yours supposed to mean, the one that says _'I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up To No Good'_?" Gibbs asked.

Jan glanced at Tim as she headed back to her desk. "The movie clip where the twins give Harry the map?" she asked.

"Coming up," Tim said.

"You're a Harry Potter fan?" Clayton asked.

"Hufflepuff all the way," Jan said.

"Hufflepuff?" Gibbs repeated, confused.

"One of the four houses at Hogwarts, the wizarding school that Harry Potter goes to," Ellie said. "Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, and Slytherin."

"What's so special about them?" Gibbs asked, not really caring but figuring if Jan was a fan, the least he could do was try and understand.

" _You might belong in Gryffindor,_

 _Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
if you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folks use any means  
To achieve their ends,"_ Jan recited from the online Harry Potter wiki she had pulled up on her computer.

"Boss," Tim said, nodding at the plasma.

Gibbs watched as Harry Potter was given the Marauder Map by Fred and George Wesley in the movie _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban._

"Oh," he said.

"The movies are good, but the books are better," Jan said, working on the file in front of her.

"Five bucks says you can't name all of them in the correct order," Clayton said, a mischievous grin on his face.

Jan didn't even look up.

" _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone,_ also known as _Sorcerer's Stone, Chamber of Secrets, Prisoner of Azkaban, Goblet of Fire, Order of the Phoenix, Half-Blood Prince,_ and _Deathly Hallows._ Oh, and there's a new one available; _Cursed Child_ ," she said. She got up from her desk, file in hand, and headed for the elevator, bypassing Clayton's desk. She held out her hand. "Pay up."

Laughing, he did so, just as Donna came out of the elevator, still using a cane.

"Payment for services rendered?" she snarked. "Blowjobs must be getting pretty cheap these days."

"I lost a bet, love, not that it's any of your business," Clayton shot back.

"Hey Olsen, if you ran on the treadmill as often as you run your mouth, you'd be in great shape," Jan said, heading for the elevator. "Besides, what do you know about blowjobs? The only thing you blow is hot air." She stepped inside the open elevator and stopped as a thought occurred to her. She leaned out, an innocent expression on her face, her braid falling over her shoulder. "I just thought of something; most guys are probably too scared to let you near them down there. They're probably afraid that instead of blowing, you might bite, especially with that sharp tongue of yours. Good luck getting laid anytime soon, sweetie."

She saw Gibbs nearly choke on his coffee as the elevator door shut, and heard the others laughing. Less than a minute later, she was showing Abby the NCIS Agent application file and repeating what Gibbs had said.

"Yes!" Abby yelped, grabbing her and dancing around the room with excitement.

"But I don't understand. I've got no formal training, I haven't even gone through FLETC, never mind any of the colleges, or any of the armed forces, and Gibbs thinks I'm good enough to be an agent for NCIS? Isn't that asking for trouble?" Jan worried.

Abby put her hands on Jan's shoulders. "Just after you fell in the lake, Gibbs asked me and McGee to run a full background on you. If it wasn't publicly available, we found it anyway."

Jan's face paled. "How far did you go?"

Abby smiled sadly. "We found out about your son, and what happened with Jonas, and Zane, and even Eduardo." Abby's eyes went wide when Jan suddenly went nose-to-nose with her, her eyes turning frighteningly cold.

"Never, _ever_ say those names again," Jan whispered dangerously, her teeth clenched. " _Especially_ Jonas and Eduardo. They are dead to me. Do you understand?" Abby nodded, eyes still wide. "Who else knows?"

"Just me, Gibbs, and McGee, no one else, I swear!"

"What did Gibbs do when he found out?"

"Read it, and told us to bury it."

"Agent Olsen?"

"Absolutely not. Everything we found, we triple deleted and buried. Never said a word to anyone about anything, not even Director Vance or Ducky. There's nothing for Olsen to find or use against you. Ever."

"Good. Because if I find out otherwise, I will hurt you, consequences be damned."

"Understood," Abby squeaked. "Are we still friends?"

The look on Jan's face changed instantly, going from deadly cold to warm and welcoming in a split second. "Of course! Anyway, what does the background on me have to do with this whole agent thing?"

"Gibbs must've decided that the sum of your life experiences was worth more than an agent fresh out of FLETC, just like he did with Bishop, and he stole her from NSA," Abby explained.

"But I really don't want to be a field agent," Jan said. "I'm comfortable in the office, and I really don't like using guns."

"That's okay. Gibbs knows you're good at the admin stuff, and that'll help not just us, but other agents as well, because some of them can't type worth like a dingle ball."

"So, if I'm an official federal agent, not just a temp one like I was during that business with Bicker, does that mean I have official clearance to investigate someone if I think that person may be up to something less than kosher?" Jan asked on impulse.

"Who?" Abby asked eagerly.

Jan shook her head, biting her knuckle. "Let me do some research first. Police may have been a bastard towards me in the end, but he did teach me a few things."

"Will you promise to tell me eventually? I really don't want to see you get hurt. I actually like having you around," Abby said. "And Gibbs can't protect you if he doesn't know what to protect you from."

"I know, and I did promise not to betray him, but it depends on what I find."

"Promise you'll tell me? And if not that, then at least promise me you'll be careful," Abby begged.

Jan held up her left pinkie. "Pinkie Pie promise to both."

Abby grabbed her pinkie with her own left pinkie. "Pinkie Pie promise." Then she grinned mischievously. "Now, your birthday is in two weeks. What are you gonna do?"

"You mean my Once-A-Year Day?"

"Once-A-Year Day?" Abby repeated, confused. "Is that what you call your birthday?"

"Yeah, except it's not my birthday because it usually gets ignored or forgotten about by whichever Acceptor I'm with," Jan explained. "Mind you, the General was pretty good about it." She laughed. "He actually spoiled me rotten that day. Anyway, once a year, on that day, I treat myself. I let myself do things I don't normally do for the sake of the agreement I'm in. I might get a large banana split and a nice fiddly thing. Might even have a bubble bath if Gibbs doesn't mind my taking over the bathroom for an hour. As the song goes, everyone's entitled to be wild, be a child, be a goof, raise da roof!"

"I love that song! Especially the Muppets version. Okay, so you and I, we're gonna hit Baskin Robbins and we're gonna get the biggest banana split they can make, and we're going to have fun," Abby swore.

 _Uh oh_ , Jan thought. "One tiny thing?"

"Whazat?"

"Don't make too much of a big deal of it; I really don't like people fussing over me or putting me in the centre of attention," Jan begged.

Abby smiled. "I promise." _Not!_ she thought, crossing her fingers behind her back.

As soon as Jan was gone, Abby quickly fired off two emails. One was sent to Gibbs and Tim, warning them never to say Jonas, Zane, or Eduardo's names in front of Jan, or risk her wrath. If Zane was mentioned, it was as Police or Cop only. The second email was sent to Gibbs, Tim, Ellie, and Clayton. Abby didn't like, nor trust Donna, especially not with the way she treated Jan, so she deliberately omitted the agent. This email was about Jan's upcoming birthday, or Once-A-Year Day, as she called it. She told them what Jan had told her, omitting the bubble bath part, but sent that to Gibbs in a separate email.

Clayton suggested a delivery of yellow roses with no card, seeing as how Jan was a Harry Potter fan, and a Hufflepuff, whose house colours were yellow and black. Ellie said she was sure she could find a recipe for Butterbeer, the popular non-alcoholic drink in the Harry Potter world, and Tim offered to raid a local bakery for a heavenly cupcake treat. Gibbs simply said he would come up with something.

 _Two days later:_

"Prints are coming up as Private Bob MacIver, USMC,". Tim said, reading the fingerprint scanner.

"That matches his driver's license and identification," Ellie said, holding up the wallet. "Which is pretty much the only thing left in here, aside from his bank card. Robbery?"

Jan peeped over Ellie's shoulder, iPad and stylus in hand. "Running him through the DMV now. If he's got a license, he should have a vehicle, and if he does, that'll be one BOLO coming up," she said. Ellie put the wallet in an evidence bag and sealed it.

"What do you got, Duck?" Gibbs asked the medical examiner, as he and Palmer examined the body.

"Well, time of death was between midnight and two a.m. As for the cause of death, I'm not seeing any external injuries, other than the blood around his mouth, which suggests internal bleeding. But, as always, I'll know more when I get him back to autopsy," Ducky said.

"And we have a hit," Jan said. "Private MacIver is supposed to be in possession of a motorcycle, specifically a 1980 Triumph Bonneville. There's no other vehicles registered to him."

"I haven't seen a motorcycle around, or a helmet," Ellie said, camera in hand as she snapped pictures. "Might have been stolen."

"One BOLO going out," Jan said, her stylus moving across her pad.

"Cameras?" Gibbs asked.

"Reeves and Olsen are on 'em, and I'm about to go help them," Tim said.

"Carnaby, you're with me," Gibbs said, gesturing at her.

"Coming," Jan said, following him.

While Gibbs interviewed the cop and the witness that had found the victim, Jan took notes similar to the ones Gibbs was scribbling in his notepad, but hers were more detailed.

Afterwards, he asked her, "What do you think?"

"No one saw anything, no one heard anything, and from what the officer is saying, it's not surprising because this is an area known for crime," Jan said. "I think someone decided he had a nice bike and was going to have it, whether or not he was willing to give it up. I'm not seeing a helmet anywhere, or keys, so I think the bike was stolen."

"Maybe he took a cab," Gibbs suggested.

"So why take the keys? Why are we not seeing any signs of assault around the head or face? Why not his hands? He's a Marine; he's been taught to fight. I think he got jumped, like a blitz attack."

"How many?"

"I don't know. Hopefully the autopsy can give us some clues."

"Why didn't he fight back? As you said, he's a Marine. He's been trained to fight."

"Who's to say he didn't? He's wearing bike gloves, and they have knuckle guards on them. He's also wearing boots, heavy-duty ones. If that meets your kneecap or nuts, it's gonna hurt. I've seen those things do some serious damage to the human body."

"You ride?"

"I used to, until I refused to keep my mouth shut about the fact that my Acceptor was having an affair with his buddy's on-the-road girlfriend. He didn't want me; he just wanted me to cover for him," she admitted. "I didn't take kindly to being used. When his buddy found out, he laid a beating on Harley Davison that left him with a broken tibia, and left both him and the girlfriend at a bar in the middle of Nowhere, Nevada."

"And you?"

"I was sweet on him, but he was too busy smarting over the betrayal. He let me finish out my three-month Agreement with him and his other buddies though, and said I was welcome to ride with them any time. Taught me everything I know about servicing a bike."

"Good. We may need that." Then he leaned close, ignoring the glare Donna sent their way. She had been told of Jan's new status and, predictably, she had objected loudly. Gibbs had told her off, and when she tried to go over his head to Vance, Vance had told her off even more. She had also been warned that if she tried to make things difficult for Jan, be it her job or her relationship with Gibbs, there would be consequences. "What do you want for your birthday?" Gibbs asked.

"Nothing. There's nothing I need or want that I can't take care of myself, and I don't like people fussing over me because it's my responsibility to look after you and not cause problems for you," Jan said.

"And how often have you been told that?"

"Since I became a Potential. It's what we're supposed to do, which is bend ourselves towards the needs of the Acceptor, in the hopes of finding a home and a family of our own. Ninety-nine percent of Potentials are foster kids that have aged out of the system and don't have money or a family to go to, especially one that could provide us with a Career Option, or even college or some form of post-secondary schooling."

"I didn't know that," Gibbs admitted. "I thought Potentials were the Society's way of making sure everyone had a Partner. Some of the ones I met were missing a few screws."

"Some of us are, but some of us are just looking for someone to love, and who will love us, faults and all."

"Do me a favour?"

"Okay."

"Stay the way you are. I like your company." And with that, he kissed her temple, making her blush.


End file.
